CONUNDRUM

PRELUDE

"Do you see anything yet?"

"Nope, sure don't, Mitchell."

The black and white patrol car crawled down the alley. The officers inside weren't sure about what they were seeking but searched anyway. The call came from an elderly woman who resided in an apartment above the alleyway. She claimed she heard screaming and crying coming from what sounded to be a young woman, so she decided to call the police.

David Mitchell, the newest recruit, scanned the right side of the alley, while Officer Jacob Hendson searched the left. Mitchell clicked his tongue disapprovingly as he rolled his eyes. "Hendson, there's nothing here. It was probably some kids having some fun."

"Maybe." Hendson replied dryly. He knew Mitchell wanted to be where the action was, but disturbance calls were a part of their job. He continued to inch the car down the alley. The headlights gave little light in front of them so he reached for his flashlight to shed light on the boxes they passed. He had a sneaking suspicion that they would come across something. Call it a sixth sense or a gut feeling; but he knew something was wrong. He had the same feeling when his daughter totaled her car last month.

He squinted out into the darkness beyond his flashlight searchingly and he stopped the car suddenly. He'd found it. He was staring at a white tennis shoe. It was laying on its side splattered with blood. That in itself wouldn't have bothered him, but it was still attached to the person that it belonged to. "Oh god." He picked up the mike and said, "Possible assaulted victim in alley between Elm and Ash Grove. Ambulance requested."

"10-4." A female voice responded to his call.

"Come on." As Hendson opened the car door, he saw the tennis shoe slightly move. He kept his flashlight on the shoe as he approached the victim and removed his gun from his holster as he approached. He was aware of Mitchell behind him from the sound of his breathing. He moved the flashlight up the body. He heard a muffled sob and turned to find Mitchell ducking his head across the alley to become violently ill.

He returned the light to the victim. He swallowed hard tying to control his own stomach. Before him lay a young lady – laying half on her side, half on her back. Blood covered her body. The cause was from two deep slashes on her face – each gash went diagonally from her hairline to her chin.

Assessing the situation, Hendson quickly went to his patrol car and grabbed the first aid kit from the trunk. He returned to her, gently picked her up and placed her in the light that came from the headlights. His fingers slipped on her slick flesh as he searched desperately for the throbbing artery in her neck. He could feel a faint beat, so he went to work on stopping the bleeding. He looked at the first aid kit and frowned. He knew that he didn't have the proper supplies in there for an injury this severe. Knowing that he had to do something so she wouldn't bleed to death, he opened the first aid kit, picked up the gauze compress and applied it to the cuts on her face. "Mitchell," he called out. "I need your help to stop the bleeding."

"Can't," a sob replied.

"Get your ass over here. This girl needs your help." Hendson demanded.

A physical change came over Mitchell as Dr. Samuel Beckett leapt into his aura and Jacob Mitchell leapt out. Sam straightened himself up as he heard the other officer call to him.

"At least check the damn alley. God knows that bastard could still be here."

"Oh boy." He whispered. Both the facts that the officer had called him and he wasn't particularly pleased at what he was looking at, brought Sam back up on his feet. Even though his stomach was still flipping from looking at Mitchell's lunch, his mind wouldn't let him concentrate on it. He swept his gun up and began to slowly make his way down the alley. His nerves now finally tuned as he saw a movement to the left of him. He lowered his gun on the movement and his arms betrayed him. They began to shake from all of the adrenaline in his system. Using his other arm to steady him, he moved forward. He moved and it moved and he took his aim and yelled, "Freeze!". The noise resounded in the alleyway making Hendson jump. He turned his head to see what was happening but couldn't tell what was going on.

"Everything okay?" he called out.

Sam held his ground and so did the movement until he moved again. Frowning, he moved his hand up to run his hand through his hair and saw the movement do the same. Realizing he was after his own shadow like Peter Pan, he frowned and he headed back, still on edge, knowing that someone could still be around. As he turned, he missed seeing the long shadow that slowly disappeared around the corner.

"Well?" Hendson asked when Sam got back up to him.

"It was nothing. No one else is here, I don't think." It was then that the doctor in him took control. "No, you need to hold the compress this way on a cut like this."

Hendson focused back on his patient as he changed the way he was holding the compress. Her eyes opened slowly. They didn't stay open long, but she managed to say a few words. "Dad, help me."

"Oh god." Hendson responded with hot tears filling his eyes. He knew that it wasn't his flesh-in-blood daughter before him, but she was someone just as close. Someone who came into his life three years ago and he considered her as a daughter. His face rose as he looked up into the night sky. "Why?" He looked back down at the young woman once more. "Why did it have to be Cassandra?"

Even as the ambulance pulled into the alleyway, a warm enveloping feeling encircled Sam, warming him from the inside out. He sighed when he saw the paramedics arrive and he leapt.

Quantum Leaping through time, I've leapt into situations where instincts led me to my outcome. Without even contemplating about the newest situation I was in, I relied on my instincts on this one.

His first sensations after a leap usually left him with a sense of confusion. At least this time it wasn't confusion that found him. He knew at least he was lying down. He opened his eyes.

It was dark; almost pitch black. The only thing that cast any light was a digital clock that was approximately two feet away on a bedside table. It read: 1:30. It had a dot beside the time indicating in the morning.

He immediately gazed up toward the ceiling with a sigh. "Thank you." It was the first time to leap into a person where he could rest beforehand. It was not only a welcoming feeling, it was a joyous one. He laid his head back down on the pillow, and snuggled down on the mattress. "Oh boy." He then closed his eyes, sighed once more and slept.